On Grief

Posted on: 2013 08 16

Here is a really beautiful piece written by a long-time colleague, Scott Funk. Scott is also known as the "Reverse Mortgage Guy" and has helped many people age in place. You can find his column, Aging in Place, in over 2 dozen newspapers across the state. Grief Driving on VT RT 103, I was passing the Laurel Glen Mausoleum in Shrewsbury when something caught my eye. The contrast of bright red against the stark, grey granite was out of place. Although I’d driven by this spot countless times, I’d never noticed the statue of Mr. Bowman, stricken with grief and dressed in mourning, looking woefully into the space which holds the remains of his wife, two daughters, and himself. The Victorians knew how to mourn and were allowed their public grief. After the loss of his wife, following those of his daughters, our gentleman remade the cemetery, brought 125 artisans in to create the mausoleum and statuary (more can be viewed inside), and built a mansion across the street from which to watch the proceedings. He lived out his life waiting to join those he loved beyond his lawn, across the road. Today, grief is a much more private thing. We have lost much of the ritual and support that was an ongoing part of society not so very long ago. Beyond the loss of those we love, there is also loss as we change with age. “It seems like every day I learn of someone else who has died, or discover something else I can’t do.” The 87-year-old client who shared this with me summed up perfectly the constant state of loss and grief which so many of us face. In my mid-sixties, gardening has become something I get in shape for each spring. Driving at night is something to avoid. Skiing the big bumps is no longer possible for the same reason I need to wear elastic supports around my knees when I dance with my lovely wife, Kelly. My body has lasted long enough to earn a little accommodation. Whether it is the death of a friend or realizing we can’t carry the air conditioner down from the attic anymore, it is a loss. Some are significant to everyone. Others are private and difficult to explain. All matter and deserve to be grieved. That is not always easy. When my knees couldn’t take the moguls anymore, I decided to stop skiing. It just wasn’t the same. An old ski buddy had faced the same decision a few years before. He adjusted and continued to ski. I didn’t and we drifted apart, more loss and more to grieve. It wasn’t until I attended a class on grieving that I began to appreciate what was happening. Not only had I stopped skiing, I no longer enjoyed winter at all. Because I hadn’t allowed myself to grieve, I couldn’t process the loss and move on. Once I did, I was able to replace one winter sport with another. Now, I thoroughly enjoy snow walks with my camera in the woods behind the house. Sometimes I feel like it is the little losses that gang up on me. It feels like pieces being taken out of the puzzle that used to look like me. Somehow thinking about it, sharing it out loud with family and friends is harder than it should be. It can sound like complaining, but when I do share, I feel better. Often, they feel better too, because they care. As I help them understand what I’m growing through, it brings us closer and teaches them a bit of what’s in store. As we face the changes of age or health, we sometimes fear being a bother. I say share it all, the easy and the difficult. After all, being human is a group effort and we are all heading in the same direction together. Scott Funk is a Reverse Mortgage Consultant. His monthly column Aging in Place appears in over 2 dozen newspapers across the state. Archives of the column can be found at http://www.vermontfunk.com.